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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805073">but most of all I'd like you to be unaware</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia'>reconditarmonia</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breasts, Clit Rubbing, F/F, Light Dom/sub, Masturbation, Mostly Fluff, Mutual Masturbation, Nipple Play, Orders, PWP, Telepathic Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:14:37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26805073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/pseuds/reconditarmonia</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gideon can feel a wide grin spreading over her face. “You want me to jack off for you, Nonagesimus?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>232</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Yes Fest 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>but most of all I'd like you to be unaware</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/gifts">inquisitor_tohru</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set vaguely post-GtN but everyone is FINE.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Take off your clothes,” says Harrow.</p><p>Gideon would swear there’s a question mark at the end of that sentence, even if you’d have to be fluent in a very specific dialect of Harrowhark Nonagesimus to hear it. She’s embarrassed at how her heart suddenly jackhammers in her chest and her face goes all hot, and her brain takes a split second to consider and discard <i>which creepy ritual of the Locked Tomb is this one</i> and <i>that’s what your mum said to me last night</i> before settling, voice breaking, on “Fair’s fair.” She pulls her shirt over her head and steps out of her trousers. For appearances’ sake, she drops them in a pile on the floor instead of folding them.</p><p>When she looks back, Harrow’s still drawn up to her full meagre height, but a little of the quivering tension has gone out of her jaw and hands. “What?”</p><p>After the avulsion trial, she means. It feels like it was years ago. “I’ve seen <i>you</i> naked,” she says, feeling kind of lame now for still thinking about it sometimes. She shimmies out of her bandeau and underwear and stands feet flat on the floor. Then she wonders if she should have fallen into a rapier stance, weight centered, as though she could raise her right arm and defend her nakedness with a sword, or if Harrow maybe expects her to strike a sexy pose instead. </p><p>Harrow’s regard could pierce right through her clothes if she were still wearing them, and if it had ever previously seemed inclined to do so. She is, possibly, mentally flaying off Gideon’s skin and muscle and contemplating her skeleton right at this moment. Gideon feels a little fond. “I,” Harrow says, apparently moving on to Section 2(a) of a prepared speech, “wish to know you as intimately as you know yourself. I have to know how your body works, Nav, I have to understand the connections between what you do and how it feels — to acquaint myself better with your mental map of yourself. I would count it a very great honor — until now I have only possessed you in the context of active combat but I am concerned that my familiarity with your body and movements is thus circumscribed —”</p><p>Gideon can feel a wide grin spreading over her face, and decides to take mercy on Harrow. “You want me to jack off for you, Nonagesimus?” </p><p>Harrow’s unpainted face goes absolutely pale, but she powers on through. “I will tell you exactly what to do, and —”</p><p>“Yeah, and you’ll wear my brain like a snuggie, I get it.” She feels a little giddy. It’s been slow, getting to do things with Harrow; if keeping her clothes on and letting Gideon do all the work is what makes her necromancer comfortable for now, Gideon is <i>there</i> with bells on. “I’ll do it if you admit that it’ll be hot.” She’s teasing, mostly, pretty sure she can count on that, but the part of her — much smaller than it used to be — that still expects a <i>psych, it’s actually a test!</i> waits for an answer.</p><p>Harrow gives her a small smile. “It will be hot.”</p><p>So Gideon kisses the end of her nose and hops onto the bed, leaning back against the pillow at one end, while Harrow settles herself cross-legged onto the other end. Harrow’s gotten better at letting herself into Gideon’s mind without tripping over the furniture and stepping on the squeaky bit of floor, but Gideon’s better at hearing her there now, too, so even though her vision doesn’t blur any more, she feels it when Harrow’s presence slips into her, as familiar to her as her sword is to her hand. “Cozy in there?”</p><p>“Yes.” There’s a little echoing feedback effect as Gideon hears Harrow’s voice in her ears at the same time she hears that not-voice in the back of her mind. Harrow must do something to adjust the spell, because she says “Yes” again, and this time Gideon only hears it from the outside. “Touch your — breasts.” The word comes out strangled.</p><p><i>Ha-ha, I made Harrow say “breasts”</i>, Gideon thinks. Out loud, she asks, “How?”</p><p>Harrow blinks, like she hasn’t thought about it, and her eyes narrow. “Slowly. Don’t touch your — don’t until I say you can.”</p><p>Fuck, of course she’d want to torment Gideon even in this. So instead of going straight for her nipples, Gideon brushes her fingers over the tops of her breasts, circles around, one at a time then both at once. She <i>feels</i> Harrow’s breathing pick up, slow and heavy. Anything she’d normally have thought about to get herself hot — weird intrusive pre-Lyctor-trials fantasies about Harrowhark not excepted — flies out of her head, in the face of lying here and letting Harrow tell her how to get off. She runs her fingers over her skin, more sensitive than she realized, feeling the echoes of the touch in her hardening nipples and her clit. Her whole body feels buzzy. Scratch that, this is a great idea. </p><p>When she skims over her nipple with the side of one finger — she’s doing as she’s been told, it’s an accident, all right? — her vision goes blurry for a moment as Harrow squirms and lets out a little noise at the spark of sensation they both feel. “Okay, now. Now,” Harrow blurts out. Gideon remembers to open her eyes and look at Harrow — her necromancer’s face is flushed a blotchy red, her hands still tightly fisted in the sheets. Harrow is embarrassingly turned on, just from feeling her, Gideon Nav, touch herself.</p><p>Gideon hurries to roll her nipples between her fingers, gasping a little at the way the sensation is magnified by the wait. Across the bed, Harrow gasps too, uncrossing her legs and shifting on the bed.</p><p>“Squeeze them harder,” says Harrow, voice tight, and Gideon does, biting the inside of her cheek — she becomes aware, suddenly, of a dark warm feeling low in her body, when she does as Harrow says, and realizes that that feeling’s coming to her from <i>Harrow</i>, washing back along the same mental channel that’s letting Harrow feel what she feels.</p><p>It’s too much. She keeps one hand on her breast, pinching and running her nail over the nipple, but she reaches down to slide two fingers into herself, realizing — slightly gross but cool — that she’s dripping onto the bed. She’s only one knuckle deep when Harrow says “Stop that.”</p><p>“<i>Harrow</i>,” Gideon says, stopping, like an idiot.</p><p>“I didn’t say you could,” says Harrow obstinately, clearly aware that this is, if you were to ask Gideon, a pretty feeble justification.</p><p>Gideon slides her fingers further in, not breaking eye contact. "But I want to, my sepulchral liege."</p><p>Harrow lurches up like a rabid ferret, thunder in her eyes. Out of almost twenty years’ instinct, Gideon yanks her fingers out and scrambles back. Harrow shuffles forward on her knees, one claw outstretched, and shoves her hand into Gideon's hair, wrenching her head up as she straddles Gideon's bare thighs. Gideon makes an ungodly noise. Even through her black shirt and trousers, Harrow radiates heat, and Gideon, looking up at her as she’s rarely in a position to do, pain in her scalp and a new crick in her neck, feels like she’s about to faint. </p><p>Harrow’s breathing hard. "Griddle, so help me, I will summon skeletons to hold down your hands. I will enjoy it, and you will not."</p><p>"Oh yeah, please ravish me, baby," says Gideon quickly.</p><p>Harrow lets go of her hair and pushes her shoulders back down to the bed. “<i>Keep touching your breasts</i>.”</p><p>Gideon does, until they’re almost too sensitive to touch, until she’s arching her body taut and making little noises when she exhales and tightening her muscles for the slightest hint of pressure that she can get with Harrow’s weight keeping her from moving her legs. She feels the sweat beading up on her face and in the small of her back. Harrow is panting creepily in her head, kind of, and when Gideon looks at her, Harrow’s eyes are fixed on her, burning like coals, and her nails are digging into her own thighs. When Harrow puts a hot hand on her ribs, Gideon whimpers out loud. </p><p>“Good,” says Harrow, but her voice is scratchy and deeper than usual. Gideon knows now what Harrow sounds like when she’s barely keeping it together, and right now that’s because of her, not because of 1) theorems or 2) murder — because of what Harrow is having her do, and calling her good for doing. "Touch your clit now. With two fingers — ngh —" Harrow draws in a sharp, shuddering breath and her head falls forward as Gideon obeys eagerly, pressing two fingers to her own clit, and Gideon feels Harrow squeeze further into her mind, somehow in her whole body and not just her head, like she's seeking every particle of the pleasure Gideon's getting from this. "Harder than that. In a circle —" Gideon must find the right way of doing it, after a few more bitten-off commands, because Harrow falls silent again, except for panting and whimpering. It's not what Gideon's used to doing for herself, and the dizzying revelation that this isn't an arbitrary order or Harrow using deduction and experimentation to decide on the best way to get Gideon's body off, this is how <i>Harrow</i> likes it, sweeps over Gideon like a wave.</p><p>"Come on, Harrow, talk to me," she says, hearing how stupid and breathless her voice sounds. "You're too good at this, I can barely feel you in there. It's not fair."</p><p>Harrow answers immediately. “You’re amazing. Your body, the way you use it. You’re so good at this, so good at making yourself feel good, you feel so <i>much</i> — I'm beyond fortunate to see you like this — I wish I could show you properly what you do to me —" She cuts herself off suddenly. It's, objectively, fucking hilarious to watch her come — beyond the fact that she comes before Gideon can and she’s not even the one touching herself, her eyes screw up and her mouth hangs open stupidly, she keens in a high little voice, her thighs tremble and she clasps them convulsively tight around Gideon’s, and her whole body shivers apart for a long time — but it's somehow also incredibly hot. Gideon, for the life of her, isn’t going to change things up at this point, even if it’s not her usual style. Harrow told her how she should get off, and her necromancer, rolling off of her and pitching sideways into the pillow as Gideon moves to make space for her, doesn’t seem about to issue any new orders. So Gideon rubs hard at her clit, desperate and fast, heels jerking against the sheets, feeling Harrow’s warmth beside her and instant-replaying how Harrow looked and felt when she came.</p><p>Harrow’s hand sneaks out to grasp her free hand in a death grip — right, Harrow’s mind is still in hers even as she’s lying face-down in the pillow, wiped out and, Gideon realizes now, horribly overstimulated. She doesn’t tell Gideon to stop, though, and when Gideon finally brings herself off with a deep moan, Harrow makes a broken sound into the pillow too.</p><p>Harrow doesn’t let go of Gideon’s hand for a while, until both of their hearts have slowed to normal and she’s resurfaced, lank hair sticking out around her still-reddened face. “Thanks,” she says, very sincerely.</p><p>This, weirdly, abashes Gideon more than anything that came before. “Anytime," she says, swallowing hard, and means it. Gideon feels Harrow start to tiptoe out of her brain, to recede like a tide, and misses her presence immediately. “Hey. Get back here, it's free real estate." She takes Harrow’s other hand and pulls Harrow’s arm over her as she rolls onto her side; she’s earned a cuddle, and she’s still starkers besides and doesn’t want to get cold.</p><p>Harrow latches onto her back like a warm backpack, pressing her nose against the back of Gideon's neck and muttering something unintelligible, and thrashes around with her trapped lower arm until Gideon gives in and pulls the covers up over them both. The Harrow-presence in Gideon’s brain seems to curl up comfortably too, exhausted but content.</p>
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